Prompt 5: Blueberries
Geico never liked
fruit before it all. Yes, just
Berries he'd ignored.
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Prompt 5: Blueberries
Geico never liked
fruit before it all. Yes, just
Berries he'd ignored.
Prompt 4: Relinquish Yourself From Him
Prompt 3: A letter, a leaf, a light.
Luca brought the letter, the leaf was plucked from a wine growing up between the bricks of the mill, and Pollie, of course, was the light. Not that he was especially all that chewerful or bright feeling himself this day. But didn’t quite matter. Pollie’s light had never been about him. It had never been allowed to be about him. If it had, the consequences could havee been dire. Confidence, desire, hell—the possibility of an ego! No, no, the light had to be a failure in order for it to be contained.
“It’s not gonna work, Luc.” Pollie muttered. His cheery candy coating of false optimism had been sanded away along with his hope and his penchant for iced coffee.
Luca’s persistence was hanging on by a thread, but that was more than he could say for his brother. “It’s our only chance, Pollie. Now,” He thrust out his palm, runic tattoos covered by a layer of dirt. “Give me your hand.”
Prompt 5: blueberries
Prompt 5: blueberries
Prompt 4: Relinquish yourself from him.
Prompt 3: A letter, a light, a leaf.
Prompt 2 but Jamie style
it's short yes, but i'm concussed i think so gimme a break <3
Beatrice, stowaway.
That's all it said. The page, ripped from some of those ledgers, the edges all soft and fuzzy with paper pulp. Other than the tail of a y and the speck of the base of a capital I, no other names were legible. But even without the evidence of the other names, it was clear–no one onboard was secret. Whatever espionage had gotten you on wasn't so clever. The only idiot you'd fooled was yourself.
"Well…" Clara stuffed the scrap into her trousers and crossed her arms.
"Fuck!" Tonya beamed, chest puffed out in pride at finishing the thought as she so often heard it. Clara swatted her shoulder and shushed her with a hiss, sidestepping the six year old to reach the ladder.
"We're all going to Hell for giving a kid such a dirty mouth." She muttered, striking a match from her bunk and lighting the lantern hung on a nail on the wall.
"Good," Bea tipped a cigarette into the flame before fastening the lantern shut. "Cause then we'll get to meet whoever let'er hit the rails in d'first place."
Prompt 3: A letter, a leaf, a light.
Prompt #2: "Beatrice, stowaway"
“Beatrice, stowaway”
I spend a lot of time stoned because I don’t like myself. Plenty of people get high on marijuana for the euphoric effects because it calms them down and makes them more amiable. I take it because I’m a stowaway in my own mind.
You know what it’s like, don’t you, to not really know who you are at your core? We could be good, bad, and everything in between, but I know I’m nothing. I’m a mute standing at the stovetop, stirring a pot of soup, sipping it every now and again. It needs salt. It needs msg. It needs lithium.
My mind controls me, not the other way around. I feel either so strongly I need to break every bone in my body or nothing at all, and I’m just stirring the pot to have something to do. Not to actually create anything, no, just to stir. Clockwise seven times. Counterclockwise once. Repeat. I never really add anything. Just sip sip sip.
Prompt 1: What to do when you can't sleep: overthink.
Prompt 1: What to do when you can't sleep.
Prompt 1: What to do when you can't sleep.